


Country Club Matchmaker

by himboalfred



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: America and Denmark are in their honeymoon phase and everyone is annoyed, America and the boyz become matchmakers, An old married couple without being married, Awesome Trio (Hetalia), Canon Compliant, France and England have unresolved romantic tension, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27648856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himboalfred/pseuds/himboalfred
Summary: Arthur likes Francis. Francis likes Arthur. It's not speculation, it's a known fact. So why aren't they together?Good thing Alfred's got the brilliant plan to help push them on their way. What could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: America/Denmark (Hetalia), England/France (Hetalia)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 49





	1. I. Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> So,  
> 1\. I always see usuk fics where the bad friends trio are the ones who matchmake them. I wanted to try the awesome trio matching fruk!  
> 2\. I also sometimes see fics where Francis/Alfred are the villainous ex (depending on the ship) and in my opinion, that's the laziest form of writing. So here I am, writing Alfred as a supportive best friend that wants nothing but the best for these two old fucks :D
> 
> Enjoy!

“He thinks he’s so perfect because he’s got this luscious hair and soft smile, like the rest of us don’t hold a candle to his beauty or something! I mean, the _audacity._ The preposterousness of it all, really!” 

Alfred really likes Arthur, despite their tumultuous relationship. He values their close friendship, the older man’s stories and teachings; hell, he even likes to use the scones as baseballs sometimes. He also knows he’s one of Arthur’s only friends that isn’t made up, so maybe that’s why he keeps constantly putting up with Arthur’s inane rants about his crush. 

“Are you twelve? Who uses the term ‘crush’ that isn’t in primary school?” Oops, Alfred didn’t mean to say that one out loud. “Also, Francis isn’t my crush!” Arthur yells, and Alfred rolls his eyes once the man goes off on another tangent about how he could never catch feelings for that French man and blah blah blah.

“As fun as it is to hear you rant about Francis’s hair and outfits and his smile for hours,” Alfred starts, and takes immense pleasure from the hot blush on Arthur’s cheeks. The older man opens his mouth, but Alfred swiftly continues, “I’m only gonna be here for the week, dude. How ‘bout we order out and watch something? I know your bedtime is in an hour.” He grins.

“Oh, shut it,” Arthur says. “But fine. Indian sound alright?” 

“Yup! Order for me, I’ll pick a movie.” Alfred gives him a thumbs up.

“If you’re picking something worthwhile, it better not be anything American,” Arthur teases, and grins at the immediate drop of Alfred’s smile.

“Go order the food old man,” Alfred grumbles. He hears Arthur laugh as he exits the living room into the kitchen, presumably to grab a takeout menu and pick the best options. Then again, it’s Arthur. The man’s probably ordering the worst thing on the menu to spite Alfred. If that’s the case, he’s gonna choose the cheesiest chick flick Hollywood has to offer to get back at him. 

Alfred snickers to himself as he turns on the television and switches to Netflix. Serves Arthur right for dissing his amazing movies.

•••

Halfway through the decent meal and the less than decent film, Alfred hears a quiet sniffle next to him. Now, Alfred’s not one to normally judge–he himself has shed his fair share of tears over The Notebook. But this is a really shitty romcom, even _he_ has to admit it. So why’s Arthur crying?

 _Maybe I misheard_ , Alfred thinks, and glances at the shorter man out of the corner of his eye. He blinks at the obvious tear tracks on Arthur’s cheek, his green eyes glistening with unshed tears, and the way he’s hugging his knees to his chest that makes him almost appear smaller. Alfred looks at the empty beer cans next to Arthur’s half eaten food and sighs. _That must be it._

“Alright,” Alfred says and pauses the movie. Arthur quickly wipes his eyes on his sleeve and avoids eye contact. “I think you’ve had enough, Arthur.”

“I think your mum has had enough,” Arthur retorts, and Alfred laughs. He picks up Arthur and slings him over his shoulder, and is pleasantly surprised at the lack of fight the older man’s putting up. Damn, his tolerance must’ve gone to shit for _three_ beers to do him in.

Alfred hums to himself as he trails up the wooden stairway to Arthur’s bedroom. He’s done this walk plenty of times, usually carrying Arthur. It feels like muscle memory to him, in a strange way. 

The door to Arthur’s room creaks open as Alfred makes his way inside. He walks over to the neat bed, untucks the blanket with one hand and drops Arthur unceremoniously onto the sheets. Arthur bounces slightly and makes a small noise, but Alfred quickly covers his body with the blanket like a trained professional.

Arthur mumbles something and reaches out for Alfred. Alfred takes his arm and tucks it underneath the blanket, then smiles.

“You gonna be alright or should I grab some advil?” he asks. 

“Lonely,” Arthur murmurs, eyes closed. Alfred’s taken aback by the genuine response, and frowns.

“Artie?” he tries, but Arthur’s already knocked out. That, or the man’s suddenly chosen to take a vow of silence. Alfred sighs, and slowly walks out of the room while trying and failing at not making the floorboards squeak underneath him. This house is as old as Arthur, he’s surprised it hasn’t caved in yet. 

Alfred closes the door quietly, then jogs down the stairs. He walks back into the living room and picks up their plates and utensils, seemingly lost in thought as he heads into the kitchen. While scrubbing the dishes, Alfred huffs quietly to himself. 

_What did he mean?_ He rolls his eyes at himself. _Well, duh. He’s lonely. But why? It’s so obvious to anyone with eyes how much Francis–_

Alfred jumps at the shrill sound of his phone ringing, and drops the fork he’s currently washing in shock. He brushes his wet hands over the front of his jeans in a weak attempt to dry them, and swipes on his phone to accept the incoming Facetime. 

“Yo, Jones speaking,” Alfred says as he dries off the washed plate and fork. 

“Bro, why do you sound so formal?” Gilbert asks. “Also, where the fuck are you? Is that Arthur’s ceiling? I recognize the crack that kinda looks like Shakespeare.”

“Pus!” Mathias shouts. “Show your face real quick.”

Alfred grins at the sound of his voice and leans over his phone's camera, then winks. “Hey baby.”

“Aww, I miss you!” Mathias says with a grin of his own.

“I miss you more,” Alfred retorts.

“No way, I miss yo–”

Gilbert interrupts them with a loud groan. “I didn’t think it was possible for two people to be worse than West and Feli, yet here you are. Anyways, why’re you at Artie’s house loverboy?”

“I didn’t wanna buy a hotel for the meeting this Wednesday, so I decided to crash at his place,” Alfred explains. “He does it too when the meetings are in America. But I think he needs our help.”

“Who? Arthur?” Mathias asks. Alfred nods. 

“Why? Is he okay?” Gilbert asks. At Alfred’s knowing smirk, the albino scowls. “Not like I care or anything. Feelings are gay. I just wanna make sure, you know? Shut up.”

Alfred laughs. “Of course dude, totally get ya. But uh, this is pretty serious guys. Arthur’s like, really lonely. I’m kinda worried about him.”

“Lukas calls him all the time though,” Mathias ponders, and runs a hand through his perfectly messy hair. “Maybe it’s because he’s all alone on that island. I bet leaving the EU didn’t help either!”

“Not that, babe,” Alfred says. “He’s been non stop talking about you-know-who ever since I got to his place. I think they got in another fight or something.”

“Voldemort?” Mathias asks, confused.

“No dumbass. Francis,” Gilbert says. “Did he say any specifics? Francis was moping to me earlier about how his _petit rabbit_ will never love him or some shit.”

“Nope. Arthur just went on a rant about literally everything French. Dude couldn’t be more obvious he’s in love,” Alfred says with a shrug. 

“I hate seeing them like this,” Gilbert admits, and sighs. “I wish we could do something.”

Alfred blinks, and it’s like a lightbulb appears over his head. “Dudes, we _can_ do something!”

“How?” Mathias asks.

“Well, y’all know how I’m the king of movies. And what does Hollywood do best, you may ask? Romcoms! If we just put Francis and Arthur in all these cute scenarios they’re bound to get together. Movies don’t lie, yo.” Alfred proudly puffs out his chest.

“That actually sounds really smart,” Gilbert muses, impressed. “Alright! Count me in.”

“I’m down too,” Mathias says. “Should we meet up tomorrow morning to set up the first meet-cute?”

“Baby, you’re a genius. Last person to touch their nose has to pay for breakfast!” Alfred shouts, and immediately presses his finger against his nose. Mathias slaps his entire hand over his face, and Gilbert scowls as the realization hits him.

“Fuck you guys, seriously. I pay every time dipshits!” Gilbert complains.

“It’s not our fault you got the reaction time of a ninety year old,” Alfred says with a laugh. “Drink some milk for those brittle bones, bro!”

“Yeah man, just steal another twenty from Ludwig’s wallet. He hasn’t noticed yet!” Mathias snickers.

“Fine. If I get caught I’m throwing you two losers under the bus,” Gilbert grumbles. “Since you’re at Arthur’s house, no warzone tonight Al?”

“Warzone?” Mathias scoffs. “Bro. Fall guys is totally in right now.”

“Are you stupid? Among us overtook fall guys in like, August–”

“You both suck, COD just dropped so we’re obviously playing that,” Alfred cuts into their bickering. “Plus it’s Cold War style so we gotta play. It’s sacrilegious for me _not_ to. I’m down for a round, I got my PC on me.”

“Sweet, I’ll make a lobby. Catch you both in five?” Gilbert asks, and receives two nods of affirmation from the blonds.

“I love you,” Mathias says suddenly. Alfred lights up like a Christmas tree, and Gilbert pretends to throw up as he fake gags.

“I love you more,” Alfred responds. 

“No way. _I_ love _you_ more.”

“I love you more than I love McDonalds.”

“I love you more than I love my axe.”

“OH MY GOD SHUT UP!” Gilbert yells. “We are going to talk to each other in five minutes. FIVE! I regret ever setting you two up on that date last year, this is what hell must look like.” With that, he hangs up and leaves the Facetime call to the lovebirds.

Alfred and Mathias laugh quietly to themselves about Gilbert’s outburst, and then do the cheesy gross thing where they kiss their phone camera before hanging up. Seriously, Alfred’s so glad he’s alone at the moment. Ivan would probably mock him for a decade if he saw that.

Alfred walks out of the kitchen after pocketing his phone and towards the guest bedroom, then kneels next to the bed and opens his luggage. While he opens his laptop and waits for it to turn on, he thinks of all the possibilities and scenarios he could put Francis and Arthur in to make them confess their feelings to each other. 

He grins to himself, looking nearly sinister in the light of his laptop. No one can resist the magic that is Disney movie tropes, that’s for sure. ~~(People are literally protesting to open the Disney parks,~~ ~~_that’s_ ~~ ~~how magical they are. No, but seriously. What’s wrong with humans?)~~ They’ll be married by the time he’s done with them.

This is gonna be fun.


	2. II. Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred's first plan goes as well as one could expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the love on the first chapter :) It really motivated me to get the second one out quick!  
> Finally, we have fruk interactions as well as the first shenanigan.

Alfred wakes up at the ungodly hour of seven in the morning. He knows that even while nursing a hangover, Arthur will manage to pull himself out of bed before nine. To make sure they would be able to get some food and discuss the plan, him and the guys all agreed on seven being the best possible time, which Alfred is now regretting terribly. 

He forgoes showering because he just knows Arthur will magically wake up and start yapping about water bills or some other old people shit. Alfred throws on the first clothes he sees packed away in his suitcase, which happen to be a pair of cargo army pants with a wrinkled white t-shirt. He hops around the room as he puts on his socks and timbs, then grabs his phone and wallet off of the top of the desk next to the bed. As an afterthought, he smirks and leaves his wallet on the desk, then types a quick text out.

_Omw! Gil, u owe me a lot of coffee ;)_

Alfred hits send, orders an uber to the cafe, then pockets his phone. He doesn’t bother fixing his hair or cleaning his glasses–it’s _early,_ okay?–as he puts on his jacket. Alfred walks towards the front door, unlocks it, and steps out of the house. He closes the door quietly behind him without locking it. 

He’ll be back before Arthur can realize this atrocious crime he’s committing and nag at Alfred about the dangers of unlocked doors. Alfred knows all about it, he lived through the 70s with every serial killer known to man. Besides, Arthur’s got his little fairies to protect him. And soon, he’ll have Francis!

Actually, Francis would probably be no match up against Ted Bundy. But at least they can die _together,_ and that’s all that matters! With those cheerful and not at all disconcerning thoughts, Alfred whistles to himself and waits in the driveway for his uber.

•••

Gilbert and Mathias are already seated in a booth across from each other when Alfred arrives, and he skips towards their table. Mathias stands up at the sound of approaching footsteps and the two practically launch themselves at one another into a tackle hug. Mathias picks up Alfred and spins him around, which makes Gilbert roll his eyes.

“It’s way too early for this shit,” Gilbert mutters. He makes a face at the sound of lips smacking, and refuses to look up from his glass of orange juice. “Anytime you two wanna stop, that’d be nice. We still have no plan and no fo–”

Alfred gasps and quickly pulls away from Mathias, though he doesn’t unhook his arms from the Dane’s neck. “Oh my god, the plan! But more importantly, we should order some grub.”

“We ordered,” Gilbert says. Alfred pouts at him. 

“You guys didn’t wait for me? That’s fucked up,” Alfred says with a huff.

“No babe, I ordered for you! Two sunny side up eggs with french toast, and extra whip cream,” Mathias recites, and Alfred’s pout melts to a dreamy smile. 

“You know me so well,” Alfred says. He mulls over the order then scrunches his eyebrows together, and opens his mouth. Mathias presses a finger against his lips.

“And I got you coffee on the side; four sugars with cream!” Mathias grins. Alfred laughs, then rubs their noses together. 

“You really _do_ know me,” he says. Mathias sets him down and sits, then immediately puts his arm around Alfred’s shoulders once he sits next to him. Thankfully, a waitress walks over with Alfred’s coffee and three plates of food, so Gilbert’s momentarily saved from more face sucking from his best friends. For now.

“So, what’s the plan?” Gilbert asks while cutting into his eggs and sausages. 

Alfred drizzles syrup on his french toast. “I was thinking we need to put them in situations where romantic stuff happens, yanno? So let’s all brainstorm and make a list.”

They’re all quiet for a moment, deep in thought and too hungry to speak. Gilbert chugs his orange juice (without pulp, because he’s not a monster) and slams the glass down, causing a few glares from other patrons to be sent their direction.

“I got one!” Gilbert announces. “A party this Friday. We play spin the bottle with everyone, but rig it so that whenever Francis and Arthur go to spin, they’ll always land on each other!”

“Ooh, good idea,” Mathias says with an approving nod. He picks up a piece of bacon from his plate and takes a bite out of it, then presses the remainder against Alfred’s lip. Alfred dutifully opens his mouth for the food and chews, then shoots a soft smile at Mathias. 

“Do you have any, babe?” Alfred asks after he swallows. 

“Hmm. I just thought we should drag them on a double date,” Mathias says. “If we act all cute and lovey-dovey, they’ll conform to peer pressure and act like us!”

“Genius!” Alfred praises. Mathias beams at him. 

“What about you, Al? Got any ideas?” Gilbert asks. 

“Well, duh. I am the creator of Operation FAENTFBR–”

“How did you manage to pronounce that?” Gilbert wonders, amazed. “It only has two vowels.”

“What’s it stand for?” Mathias asks.

“France And England Need To Fuck, But Romantically,” Alfred says. Gilbert and Mathias “ooh” quietly. “I had two ideas so far. First, we recreate that Little Mermaid scene on the boat with the song. You know, la-la-la-la kiss the girl and all that.”

“What’s the second one?” Gilbert asks. 

“We get someone to play the bad guy and “attack” Arthur, and then one of us tells Francis to go save him so Francis can be his hero!” Alfred bounces in his seat, excited at the thought of reenacting real life superheroes and villains, even though he sadly won’t get to play hero.

“I like that one a lot!” Mathias grins. “Which one of us should be the bad guy?”

“I don’t think Arthur would take it seriously if it’s someone he’s close with,” Gilbert says, and gestures to himself and Alfred. “And no offense Mat, but you’re like a big puppy. We need someone Arthur truly fears.”

“I have just the person in mind,” Alfred says, then pulls out his phone. He smirks as he starts scrolling through his contacts. 

•••

Ivan crosses his arms over his chest, and glances between a snickering Alfred and Arthur’s house. 

“Why am I doing this again?” Ivan asks himself.

“Because I have that compromising picture of you and Yao where _you’re_ the one in hot pink lingerie. Looks good, by the way,” Alfred says.

“You promise to delete that if I do this, right?” 

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Alfred still sounds way too pleased with himself.

Ivan sighs and nervously adjusts his scarf. “Remind me of the plan again, please.”

“Sure! So, all you gotta do is bust into Artie’s house–don’t worry about the door, it's still unlocked so you won’t break any hinges off–and then just hold him hostage until Francis comes to rescue him. Basically, you’re the supervillain and Arthur is the damsel in distress! Any questions?” Alfred asks.

“Yes. Um, shouldn’t I be in a costume or something? Won’t he know who I am?” Ivan gestures to himself and his clothes, but Alfred simply shakes his head.

“If you dress up, Arthur won’t be as scared. He needs to see that it’s _you,_ because he’s terrified of you, bro,” Alfred says, and Ivan chuckles.

“Really? That’s so funny. Alright, wish me luck!” Ivan waves, then walks towards the front door of Arthur’s house and kicks it open.

At the sound of a high pitched scream, Alfred sends a quick text with a grin.

* * *

Francis looks at Gilbert weirdly as the albino ushers him out of the hotel lobby and urgently onto the sidewalk. 

“Where are we going?” Francis asks. 

“Oh Francis, it’s awful! The most horrible thing, truly!” Gilbert exaggerates, and clutches at his imaginary pearls. As a connoisseur of the dramatic arts, Francis is truly living for this performance. “Arthur’s being beaten up by a robber!”

“What?” Francis shouts. “Is he okay? Why did you come get me and not call the cops?” He shakes Gilbert’s shoulders rapidly, and doesn’t notice the lazy smirk on the other’s lips. 

“I guess you gotta go save him, huh?” Gilbert asks, though Francis ignores him and starts running towards the direction of Arthur’s house like he’s competing in a marathon. Gilbert’s phone buzzes, and he glances at the new text message.

**Alfredo Sauce**

_Red eagle has landed. Send in the french fry!!!_

_Francey pants is HAULING ASS to Arties rn_

_Give him a lift Mat_

**Great Dane**

_On it! :D I see him_

Francis jumps at the sound of a car horn next to him. Mathias sticks his head out the window, a knowing grin on his face.

“Heya Francis! You look like you’re in a rush,” Mathias says and sounds a bit too casual and suspicious, but Francis doesn’t care to question it. His mind is frazzled with thoughts of Arthur being possibly hurt. 

“Mathias, I really don’t have time to chat right now,” Francis says politely, and Mathias laughs.

“I can see that! How ‘bout I give you a ride? Arthur’s place, right?” Mathias asks, then opens the passenger door. 

Francis pauses and mulls over his options. Arthur’s house is another twenty blocks from his current location, and with a car ride he’ll most likely arrive in five minutes, tops. He nods after a brief moment, and walks around the front of Mathias’s white Zenvo ST1 and gets into the passenger’s side, then closes the door gently.

“Erm, Mathias?” Francis asks as he puts on his seatbelt.

“What’s up?” Mathias slams his foot on the gas, and Francis jerks forward in his seat.

“How did you know I was going to Arthur’s house?” Francis raises an eyebrow.

“Uh.” Mathias coughs. He turns on the radio and turns up the volume with a bright smile. “Oh hey, I love this song! Don’t you?”

Francis looks at him blankly as nothing but static plays on the speakers. Mathias clears his throat and keeps his attention solely on the road, but Francis continues staring. Why is he acting so weird? How did he know Francis was on his way to Arthur’s?

Francis swallows as the realization hits him. _Everyone must know about my pitiful crush on the man who can’t stand me._

Mathias takes a sharp left turn and his tires screech as he brakes in front of Arthur’s driveway. “Have fun!”

Francis decides to ask the happy-go-lucky Dane about his odd behavior later, because there are more pressing matters at the moment. Goodness, he hopes he isn’t too late. _Please let Arthur be okay!_

Francis gets out of the car as fast he can and rushes towards the front door, not noticing a piece of blond hair sticking up from the rose bushes next to him. He bangs on the door and frowns as it immediately creaks open with the weight of his hand.

“Arthur?” he calls out. Francis looks around the surroundings, confused on the lack of mess. Don’t get him wrong, he’s grateful Arthur’s fine china has survived this robbery/break-in, but shouldn’t everything be in disarray? 

At the lack of response, Francis quietly and quickly heads up the stairs towards Arthur’s bedroom. He places his hand on the doorknob and tries to open it, but it’s locked.

“GO AWAY!” Arthur shouts, sounding frantic. 

“Arthur!” Francis sighs in relief at the sound of his voice. “Are you hurt?”

“Francis?” Arthur asks. There’s a soft click, then the door swings open to reveal an unharmed, though slightly jittery, Arthur. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“I heard you were in trouble, so I came to help,” Francis admits, then cups Arthur’s cheeks as he inspects the shorter man from head to toe. Arthur’s cheeks flush slightly, and he fidgets in Francis’s grip. Finally, Francis meets his eyes and smiles at him. “You’re okay. Thank god you’re okay.”

“You were actually worried?” Arthur asks quietly in wonderment. 

“Of course I was,” Francis responds, just as hushed. He doesn’t let go of Arthur’s face, and instead brushes his thumb in a small circle on Arthur’s cheek. Arthur slowly puts his own hand on top of Francis’s, and his lips quirk as if he’s actively trying and failing to suppress a smile.

“Thank you–” Arthur starts, but a noise from the hallway cuts him off.

“Oh, hi Francis!” Ivan says cheerfully. He raises his metal pipe with one hand, then slaps it against his other as he grins menacingly. “I guess you’re finally here to rescue Arthur, yeah?”

One second of silence goes by. Then–

Francis immediately drops his hands from Arthur’s face and screams as he runs down the staircase. He trips on the last two and stumbles out of the house, but maintains his fast pace as he takes off down the driveway and into the street. 

Ivan and Arthur glance at one another awkwardly, before Arthur turns red from embarrassment and anger.

“That bastard! He’d just leave me here to die, huh? Oi Francis, you get back here you absolute pansy!” Arthur shouts, then quickly follows in pursuit of the panicked Frenchmen while yelling obscenities. 

Alfred pops up from the bushes, frowning. “Dude, what went wrong? Every hero gets the girl!”

Ivan walks outside of the house after a moment. He holds the pipe behind his back, and smiles sheepishly at Alfred. “I think I went a little overboard on the villain role. Sorry,” he apologizes. 

“All good, big guy,” Alfred says, and pats Ivan’s shoulder. “I deleted the picture.” 

Ivan’s shoulders sag in relief, and Alfred hides a grin. He has the image backed up on his iCloud, but Ivan doesn’t need to know that. One doesn’t simply get rid of their blackmail, after all.

Alfred takes out his phone and shoots a quick text to his group chat with Mathias and Gilbert.

_Mission failed. We’ll get em next time_

_Fs in the chat please_

**Gilbo**

_F_

**Babycakes <3**

_F :(_

Tomorrow. Francis and Arthur will definitely be married by tomorrow with their next foolproof plan, Alfred’s sure of it.


	3. III. Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred's not allowed to make the plans anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while 😅 Sorry guys! Once again thank you for all the reviews they really do motivate me :)

The next morning around the same time, Alfred attempts to sneak out again to plan their next move of attack. Unfortunately, the break-in from yesterday seems to have put Arthur on edge, so the man is actually waiting by the front door with a lacrosse stick. At the sound of the stairs creaking, Arthur swivels around to face him.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Arthur asks once Alfred is halfway down the staircase. To Alfred’s credit, he doesn’t scream or jump, because he doesn’t want to give Arthur the satisfaction of scaring him. That’s what their Halloween contest is for, after all.

“Uh. Why do you wanna know?” Alfred asks cautiously. Arthur looks angry, which to be fair could just be his face, but he looks even angrier than usual for some reason. Knowing Arthur, he’s probably upset that a young strapping buck like Alfred managed to wake up before him.

“Well, if you hadn’t snuck out yesterday morning and left my door open, I wouldn’t have gotten attacked!” Arthur exclaims with a scowl.

“Wow you got attacked? Sounds crazy,” Alfred lies. “What happened Artie?”

“Can you come down the stairs?” Arthur asks. “I like to see someone's face when I talk to them, you know.”

Alfred curses to himself. Arthur’s smart, he’s gonna know Alfred already knew about the staged attack because he knows all of Alfred’s lying quirks! Dammit!

He slowly walks down the stairs until he’s directly in front of Arthur, and crosses his arms over his chest. “I know your vision must be going from old age. Can you see me now or should I get closer?”

“You literally wear glasses!” Arthur yells, then huffs and collects himself. “No, I’m not playing your stupid game of deflection, it’s far too early. Did you know Ivan broke into here yesterday and threatened me because of you?”

“What’d I do?” Alfred asks nervously. 

“You left my fucking door unlocked!” Arthur glares at him. “You don’t pay the bills, Alfred. You’re lucky we have our little deal regarding meetings.”

“You don’t pay the bills either!” Alfred scoffs. “I know the Queen is letting you live tax free so you won’t expose that she killed Diana!”

“Stop watching _The Crown,_ please,” Arthur says. “It’s historic fiction, you know that.”

“It’s totally real and that’s besides the point. Clearly Ivan didn’t beat you up or steal nothin’, so I think you’re good. Can I go now?” Alfred asks and tries to sidestep Arthur to the door, but the shorter man is determined to block his path.

“That’s a double negative and it doesn’t matter, the point is you left me vulnerable to attack by not only Ivan, but Francis too!” Arthur complains.

“Oh?” Alfred asks, and there’s far too much interest in his tone. “And what happened with Francis? Is there… Perhaps… Anything you wish would’ve happened that didn’t but if you had the chance to do it all again to get another outcome you would in a heartbeat?”

“What on earth are you on about?” Arthur asks, raising an eyebrow. “He just acted like his usual self. Though… There was this one moment,” Arthur says quietly, a light flush on his cheeks. 

“Yeah? Didja kiss? Look deeply into each other's eyes? Hear angels sing?” Alfred wiggles his eyebrows.

“No, but I–Ugh! Stop deflecting!” Arthur presses the back of his hands against his cheeks in an effort to cool them. “Where were you yesterday and where are you going right now?”

Alfred looks at Arthur weirdly, feeling oddly patronized. “Jeez, you’re acting like my dad,” Alfred says with a snort. Okay, he’s got this. He won’t lie, he’ll just simply _omit the truth._ “I got breakfast with the boys yesterday. And today the Italy's offered to cook us up something.” He shrugs casually and clears his throat, desperately hoping Arthur won’t notice how he’s unable to maintain eye contact.

“The boys?” Arthur asks, unamused. 

“Forgot you’re a boomer,” Alfred jokes, shoulders sagging in relief that Arthur isn't suspicious. “Mat and Gil. Y’know, my boyfriend and my best friend. My boys.”

“I thought I was your best friend,” Arthur grumbles. 

“You are dude! But Gil helped me kick your ass for free and he never taxed me, so y’know. He’s just a bit higher than you for that,” Alfred says with a smirk. As Arthur’s distracted by spluttering and mild cursing, Alfred’s able to push past the older man and fling open the door. “Anyways, gotta go. Try not to get jumped this time!”

“Bloody bastard,” Arthur grumbles as he slams the door shut behind a laughing Alfred.

•••

“What do you mean no?” Alfred whines.

“Are your ears clogged idiot?” Lovino scowls. “The other two dumbasses already asked and we said no. You had your food, now beat it.”

Alfred looks to Mathias and Gilbert, and both nod sadly in confirmation. “Dudes, you can’t do this to us. Ain’t the saying when in Rome about love? You gotta sing the song for them on the boat.”

“We’re not _in_ Rome. We’re in shitty London,” Lovino deadpans.

“We’d love to help Alfie, but wouldn’t this be better to do in Venice? I don’t think a boat ride in a lake in London is very romantic,” Feliciano says. “Why not wait until next month when the world meeting takes place in our home? We'll do it free of charge!”

“Even then I still wouldn’t do it,” Lovino mutters. “Those old hags are a lost cause.”

“Team huddle!” Gilbert yells suddenly. At once, all three huddle up together, shoulder to shoulder and forehead to forehead. 

“What are we gonna do?” Mathias whispers. “They’re really set on not doing this.”

“We can try one of my plans,” Gilbert suggests. “The party one is gonna have to wait because West is a stickler for work then play, but I’ve got plenty great ideas at the ready.”

“I told you handcuffing them together won’t work,” Mathias says.

“You don’t know that, man.” Gilbert pouts.

“You guys tried everything and they still wouldn’t crack?” Alfred asks, and sighs at the two nods. “Me and Lovi have been friends for years. He respects toughness. Don’t worry dudes, I got this,” Alfred whispers. 

They break from the huddle, and Alfred surveys the area. They’re in the Italian brothers suite, the kitchen to be exact. Their dishes are on the table along with glasses and cutlery, but Alfred’s real interest lies within the dough wrapped in saran wrap on the counter near the fridge. _Bingo._

“What’s that?” Alfred asks conversationally, and gestures to the dough.

“Pasta dough! I just made it this morning,” Feliciano says with a smile. “Lovino has some cannolis in the fridge for dessert afterwards, if you guys want to come eat with us again later! It’s gonna be delicious, we’re using Papa Roma’s secret recipe for the sauce.”

Alfred looks at Gilbert and smirks, then makes a small head movement towards the refrigerator. Gilbert grins slightly and gives a quick nod, then casually makes his way over to the sleek silver appliance and leans against it.

“I didn’t wanna have to do this, dudes. I like you both. But,” Alfred says, then trails off. He lifts the bottom of his shirt and whips out a pistol, then points it at the innocent dough. “If you don’t sing that amore pizza song and serenade Francis and Arthur into falling in love, the pasta gets it!” 

Lovino and Feliciano gasp in unison, absolutely horrified. 

“You sick bastard!” Lovino shouts.

“Alfred, you wouldn’t. Think of the children!” Feliciano sobs.

“That’s not all!” Gilbert yells, and opens the fridge. He takes out a single cannoli and holds it carefully. “One by one, these little babies are gonna float down the river if you don’t comply.”

“So what’s it gonna be, guys?” Mathias asks cheerfully. “Choice is yours.”

•••

Alfred blows another huff of air into the inflatable boat, then pulls away with a red face, panting. “Jeez, these things are impossible!” he complains. Next to him is an already filled inflatable boat, with Gilbert laying inside of it so the breeze doesn’t carry it away.

Mathias puts a hand on Alfred’s bare shoulder and leans down, then places a soft kiss against his cheek. “Let me take over for you babe. You did great.”

Alfred smiles up at him and stands. He glances around, hands on his hips. Lovino and Feliciano are closer towards the water, and they continue to shoot frightened glances his way. They’re both dressed up; complete with hats, a guitar, and tuxedos, though they look slightly ridiculous by wearing sandals instead of dress shoes but whatever. Everyone knows you don’t wear nice shoes on the beach, you’ll never get the sand out of them otherwise. 

This isn’t really a beach, and it’s nowhere near as good as Coney Island, but it has sand and water so who cares about all the technicalities. 

“Are they on their way?” Alfred calls out. 

“Yup,” Gilbert confirms, and lifts his sunglasses to look at Alfred. “West said they left thirty minutes ago. Should be here in ten.”

“How’d you get him to do this?” Mathias asks in between breaths of blowing up the inflatable boat. 

“He owes me for a lot of shit.” Gilbert snickers.

“You dudes know the plan, right?” Alfred asks.

“We go into one boat while the Little Italies go into the other with Franny and Art. We watch from a distance as they fall in love to the sound of music,” Gilbert says. Alfred grins. 

“Exactly. No way this one fails.”

* * *

Arthur glances out the window in confusion. “Why are we headed towards Ruislip?” he asks, but gets no response from the cab driver. He looks at Francis who’s leaning on his elbow, maintaining eye contact strictly at the floor of the car.

“Don’t ask me, Arthur. I have no idea why Ludwig is sending us specifically out here for business,” Francis says without looking up, as if he could feel Arthur’s stare.

“Hmph.” Arthur shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Everything feels so awkward and he wants to die, but it’s fine. Being stuck in a silent car ride with a man who left you to die but you’re still in love with anyways isn’t the worst thing to happen, but it’s definitely top three material.

After a few minutes of the two looking at each other then being caught and quickly pretending they aren’t looking at each other, the car stops. Arthur opens the door and frowns at the sight of blue water and blinding sand. He shuts the door to the cab at the same time as Francis and turns to look at the driver.

“Why are we at the beach?” he asks. Instead of responding, the driver merely shrugs and speeds off, leaving them in a trail of dust. 

“Very nice taxi men, Arthur,” Francis jokes with a chuckle. “It’s a shame Ludwig didn’t tell us this little rendezvous was taking place here! I would’ve worn something more appropriate for the occasion. I feel horribly out of place in my casual wear.”

“Yes, like that tacky pink bikini you own,” Arthur says dryly, and ignores the way his heart starts beating faster at the imagery of Francis in a bikini. This gay panic needs to stop immediately, it’s incredibly unnerving. “I suppose we can just order another cab? Perhaps Ludwig got the address wrong, or–”

“Is that Feliciano and Lovino?” Francis asks suddenly, pointing towards the beach. Arthur squints and raises a hand over his forehead to block out the sun, then blinks.

Right by the water, standing next to an inflatable boat, are the Vargas twins. But why are _they_ here? Just what exactly is going on here?

By the time Arthur’s finished gawking, Francis is already halfway there, waving excitedly at the brunettes. Arthur sighs and speed walks to catch up to the Frenchman. Looks like they’re having a beach day after all.

“Oh, they’re here!” Arthur hears Feliciano say, then the bubbly brunette beams at him, albeit slightly strained. “Hi guys!”

“What are you two doing out here?” Francis asks with a smile. “Come for some fun in the sun? Hard to do in cloudy England.”

“Hey,” Arthur defends halfheartedly. “It’s sunny right now, innit?”

“Because you can’t help but be overjoyed by my presence,” Francis says, then winks. Arthur grumbles to himself as he flushes and looks away.

“Jesus, you two are pathetic,” Lovino mutters under his breath. Before Arthur can ask him what the hell _that’s_ supposed to mean, he continues. “Get in the boat.”

“I beg your pardon?” Arthur asks. 

“The reason Luddy sent you two out here is because we have a little surprise for you!” Feliciano says. He gestures to the guitar strapped around his shoulder. “Please get in the boat.”

“Are you serious? No.” Arthur huffs.

“It seems fun! Come on, Arthur,” Francis says with a smile. 

“Fine,” Arthur says, then quickly holds up a finger before anyone can mock him. “I’m only doing this because I don’t want to waste a good trip to the beach!”

“Of course,” Francis humors him with a grin. He tries to push the boat towards the water, but Feliciano and Lovino stay put inside of it. “Are you also joining us on board?” he jokes.

“Yup!” Feliciano nods, and Francis blinks.

“Is this going to be able to hold all of our weight?” Arthur asks, and nudges the boat lightly with his shoe. 

“Don’t worry, we were told since we all have “twinky bodies” we should be fine.” Lovino snorts. “Feli, let's get out for a quick sec. We’ll hop back in when it’s in the water.”

Feliciano nods and they both step out of the boat. Francis takes off his shoes and socks, then pushes the inflatable into the water. Feliciano and Lovino step back into the middle of the boat and start to wobble unsteadily, then grab onto each other to steady their weight. After a moment, the boat and water around them calm.

“Are you going to be standing the entire time?” Arthur asks as he settles into one side of the boat, and Francis sits on the other side.

“Yes, for peak performance,” Feliciano says.

“You know those boat rides in Venice that get us a shit ton of revenue? This is like that, except the bootleg version no one wanted. Congratulations,” Lovino says. “Speaking of shit, we don’t have boards to row. You two are gonna have to use your hands to get us away from shore.”

Arthur and Francis glance at each other then shrug, and put their hands into the water to start moving the boat. As they head towards the center of the lake at a snail's pace, Feliciano strums the guitar and both Italian brothers begin singing.

“When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore,” they sing, surprisingly in tune with the correct pitch. 

Francis smiles slightly. “Isn’t this just like our days at sea? Ah, the memories.”

“Yeah, if you get rid of the ale and replace the terrible sea shanties with timeless classics,” Arthur muses. Francis laughs and looks at him with a fondness that makes Arthur’s heart ache.

“I miss it sometimes. I don’t miss all the terrible things that happened but I really do miss spending time with you,” Francis says. Arthur presses his lips together and glances at the water.

“I miss that too,” he responds quietly.

Francis opens his mouth, then closes it. Finally, after a mental war with himself, he lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry about yesterday. Perhaps I can do something to make it up to you?”

“Oh, yeah?” Arthur looks up with a grin. “I don’t know about that. I mean, you left me defenseless against a home invasion. That’s going to cost you.”

Francis blinks in surprise, then grins back. “Whatever your heart desires, it’s on me.”

_You._

Arthur almost says it. His heartbeat is so loud it’s thrumming in his ears and vibrating his entire body. He can do this.

“I want–”

“NO!” Feliciano screams, and reaches out his hand towards the distance. The weight in the boat shifts as Lovino also leans forward to grab his brother, and all four fall into the lake.

Arthur sputters and flails his arms, panicking. He can’t swim. He’s going to drown, and he’s drowned before and it’s fucking terrifying and he can’t do this and he’s choking on water and gasping for air and–

“Arthur!” Francis takes a hold of him, gripping his waist tightly. “We are still in the shallow end, breathe. Focus on me, okay?”

Arthur pants, and tightly grips his hands into fists as he clings to Francis and tries to stand, but his legs are still shaking. “I’m…” he trails off, voice hoarse and small.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Let’s count together, alright? One, two, three, four, five, remember to breathe, six, seven, eight, you’re doing amazing Arthur, nine, ten,” Francis says slowly, and rubs Arthur’s back comfortingly. “Do you want to count again?”

As he breathes in and out, Arthur is hit with a wave of embarrassment. Of course he has a panic attack in front of Francis, because the universe has it out for him. He must look so pathetic, he didn’t think it was possible for Francis to think lower of him but how could the other man not after such a childish display? He needs to leave. Now.

“I’m fine,” Arthur says in a shaky voice, and keeps his head down as he shoves Francis off of him. Francis looks at him with confusion, but Arthur refuses to meet his eyes. He knows if he does, he’ll start crying and he can’t handle making a fool out of himself further. “I’m going home.”

Francis watches as Arthur walks to the shore and wipes his eyes, then Arthur puts on his shoes and grabs his cellphone. Francis frowns to himself as Arthur quickly storms off the sand and towards the road.

 _I’ll check on him later. He needs his space right now and I don’t want to intrude on that,_ Francis thinks. He glances around the water and ignores the wailing Feliciano and cursing Lovino in favor of staring at a boat in the distance. How had they all missed that? Is this what made Feliciano freak out?

“Hm.” Francis squints to try and get a better view, but can only make out the outline of three bodies. “That’s odd…”

* * *

“You ruined it!” Alfred groans, and lays himself out on Mathias’s rather comfortable chest. Mathias wraps his arms around Alfred’s midsection and rubs his nose against Alfred’s neck, without much care for the argument taking place between Gilbert and his boyfriend.

“Hey, it’s not my fault the cannoli slipped outta my hand. Besides, Feli overreacted,” Gilbert says. He fishes the soggy cannoli out of the lake and scrutinizes it, then shrugs and takes a bite. “Mm. Still good. Anyways Al, you’re officially demoted.”

“WHAT!” Alfred shouts, and glares at Gilbert. “The hell, dude? Why am I being demoted? I started this whole thing!”

“Cuz your plans have ended terribly so far! Both times one of them has run away,” Gilbert says. “It’s time for someone else to take charge.”

“Your plans were good babe, but how ‘bout we try some of mine now?” Mathias smiles, and Alfred pouts but nods anyways.

“Fine. I trust you, baby. Whatcha got for us?” Alfred asks.

Mathias grins and sits up in the boat. “Well, let’s just say it’s time to retire Gilbo as our third wheel.”

“Oh thank god,” Gilbert says with a sigh of relief.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review! 💙@himboalfred on tumblr if you wanna chat


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